Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)
Miblets
Planetoid
- Joined
- Dec 21, 2019
Hey there, welcome! Mibs here.
I have been roleplaying over other sites for quite a few years now. I would consider myself literate and can usually churn out about 1500+ words per post depending on what I get in return. What I really value is someone who can add to the story/action and give me something to respond to. I love to read and write what a character is thinking, what they're feeling, their motivations, etc. Give me some juicy details, all the tantalizing character development and I will be extremely happy.
Looking for someone for something long-term we can really dig into.
Preferences...
• PMs or google docs for the story, I'm not a fan of threads
• OOC chatter is always a plus, I really enjoy plotting and discussing ideas, essentially this is a must for me. While surprises are always fun, I think an rp flows much better when both parties are aware of the overarching plot or direction we are trying to move the characters in. I have discord we can use for ooc, usually I prefer moving things to discord once we have kicked the rp off with the intros
• I do enjoy creating multiple side characters for our characters to interact with and to build a world (because our characters shouldn’t be in a vacuum), but I will always want our story to focus on our two main characters
• I don't like to stress post length too much, quality can always outshine a wordy post, but I do encourage you take a look at my writing samples below to judge if we would be a good fit
• Send me a PM if you are interested! Tell me what interested you and why, I love someone who brings ideas to the table or tells me why we might work well together in their message. One line saying 'I want to rp with you' is liable to not get a response from me.
Here are a few samples of my writing:
Sample #1 (non-smutty/intro style)
Sample #2 (romance smutty)
On to the nitty gritty... Plots!
Pirates/Blacksails inpired
Pirates/fantasy
Victorian Era
Medieval
Things I am a fan of...
I would be thrilled to work up something with any of these aspects below
Settings:
Historical • 1800s • Medieval • Western • Post-apocalypse
Themes:
Violence • Survival • Drama • Enemies forced to work together • Manipulation • Corruption • Betrayal • Dishonesty • Rivalry • Moral struggles • Pirates
Style:
Detailed writing • Communicative partners • Long term partnerships • Plot driven • Character driven • Character development
Characters:
Complex characters • Mature • Opposite morals/personalities • Butting heads • Development • Forced to work together • D/s
Send a message if you are interested! Would love to discuss other ideas as well!
I have been roleplaying over other sites for quite a few years now. I would consider myself literate and can usually churn out about 1500+ words per post depending on what I get in return. What I really value is someone who can add to the story/action and give me something to respond to. I love to read and write what a character is thinking, what they're feeling, their motivations, etc. Give me some juicy details, all the tantalizing character development and I will be extremely happy.
Looking for someone for something long-term we can really dig into.
Preferences...
• PMs or google docs for the story, I'm not a fan of threads
• OOC chatter is always a plus, I really enjoy plotting and discussing ideas, essentially this is a must for me. While surprises are always fun, I think an rp flows much better when both parties are aware of the overarching plot or direction we are trying to move the characters in. I have discord we can use for ooc, usually I prefer moving things to discord once we have kicked the rp off with the intros
• I do enjoy creating multiple side characters for our characters to interact with and to build a world (because our characters shouldn’t be in a vacuum), but I will always want our story to focus on our two main characters
• I don't like to stress post length too much, quality can always outshine a wordy post, but I do encourage you take a look at my writing samples below to judge if we would be a good fit
• Send me a PM if you are interested! Tell me what interested you and why, I love someone who brings ideas to the table or tells me why we might work well together in their message. One line saying 'I want to rp with you' is liable to not get a response from me.
Here are a few samples of my writing:
Sample #1 (non-smutty/intro style)
It was a curious feeling, to be nervous upon returning home after so long. Perhaps it was because the idea of calling a singular place home had been lost to her for some time. Her home was everywhere and nowhere, a life spent chasing the horizon. It was a grand life to be sure. Not fit for all, but for those few – it was undeniable. To see, for the first time, shores of long forgotten islands, great rivers, and places once thought to be naught but a sailor’s tale. To look upon them as no man had ever done before, never dreamed of. The feelings it evoked could be expressed simply, with one word – joy.
Yet, after over a century of it she found herself returning to Thule for no other reason than a sudden poor dream and a gentle – almost unnoticeable – pull towards the island that had started months ago. A pull that was more pronounced every time she toyed with the golden astrolabe that had once belonged to her father. Something was pulling her back to Thule, calling towards the little golden tool rather than herself it seemed. A hunch was not normally what she might sail months to investigate, but there was something about it, something that felt far greater than it seemed. Lyanna had never been one to ignore a mystery, no matter how elusive.
It was a lively scene aboard The Adrenaline. Men were busy scrubbing at the deck, securing supplies, or scurrying up the masts to tend to any sails that needed adjusting with the shift in wind, the quartermaster bellowing orders as they all went. An air of excitement had settled over the crew. They would be making port tomorrow, reaching land after a few long months at sea. As much as any of them enjoyed the freedom of the open ocean, steady ground and a fresh meal was always a welcome respite even to the most devout sailor.
At the stern of the ship, Lyanna stood staring up into the sky, searching for something. In her hand was a small brass bell attached to a leather cord, worn to a gleaming shine in some places from how often she would worry at it while in thought. Its twin was somewhere in the sky, attached to the leather jesses around Atlas’ foot. While the sound of a tinkling bell had become useful in avoiding surprise landings by the falcon, they served a far more important purpose. As simply as she let out a slow breath, she was looking out over the ocean once more; however, this time it was different.
Rather than stretching out before her as she stood on the ship, it was below her, racing past so quickly it was all but a blur. Lyanna was peering into the present through her falcon’s eyes, seeing and hearing what he did. Still aware of the bell she rolled against her palm, the deck beneath her feet, and shouts of the crew as they adjusted the sails, she seemed at a glance to only be lost in thought. However, a closer look would reveal the slight haze that had swept over her eyes as they shifted, never truly looking at anything but entirely far off. Everything around her on the ship was muffled, dulled almost, in place of what she saw through Atlas’ eyes.
Then suddenly the ocean below ended and was replaced by a small port town. The corners of Lyanna’s lips lifted ever so slightly at the sight, how long had it been? The docks Atlas flew over were the same ones she had run to whenever her father had come into port, brimming with excitement over what new tales or treasures he might have. But there were sad memories upon those same docks to be sure, of each passing day her mother and father never returned. The smile upon her features dampened a shade and Lyanna pulled back to her own present with a gentle urging for Atlas to return. If they managed to find a favorable wind they might get to the island before nightfall tomorrow.
“Daydreamin’ again?” The low voice of the captain made her turn, blinking once as the haze cleared from her eyes and she saw him paused at the top of the steps that led up to the helm, watching her. Captain Charles Avery, a man far too curious for his own good Lyanna had thought upon meeting him years ago and was only more convinced of it as time passed. With her reputation, most Captains had seen little reason to question exactly how she knew what she did. However, Captain Avery was not so easily assuaged.
“I daydream often Captain, I find it a lovely reprieve from your dull company.”Despite herself a grin bled onto her expression as he barked a laugh. She had sailed with his crew a number of times now, not exactly a common practice for her, but Avery knew precisely the type of mystery to tempt her. This time it had been a journal that had belonged to an elf named Belvor Thedisius, talking riddles of a tiny spit of land hidden by an enchantment where pools of crystal glittered beneath the moonlight and the air was thick with magic. Most importantly to Avery and his crew was the rumored treasure stowed away at the bottom of one of the crystals pools at the center of this tiny island. Jewels of every color, some smooth and others rough and natural. It had been a rather exciting discovery.
He joined her at the stern of the ship. “Aye, dull indeed.” The sound of sails flapping loose had the pair looking up at them. “Seems we might be losing the wind.”
“Not for long.” Lyanna seemed entirely unconcerned as she looked up at the sails, repositioning them had done little and they rippled in the dying winds, “a storm is coming, fortunately we are no more than a day from Thule.” More than just recognizing the shift in winds, she could feel something coming – all morning it had lingered like a pit in her stomach – a foreboding sense that seemed to entail more than just poor weather.
“A storm? And might I ask how you know this lass?”
Her grin seemed to widen. “You certainly may.”
“Aye, but you’ll not answer,” he finished as if familiar with the coy answer.
Lyanna sighed, no less amused as she gestured towards the sails. “The wind, Captain, it has been shifting restlessly today, surely you recognize that.”
“The winds have been a restless sort today, and the day before, as well as the day before that.” It was true, they had been chasing a proper route for the last week so as not to get stuck out to sea with nothing to fill their sails. “Too far off to say if it’s just a poor wind or a storm brewing.” From his tone he was more curious than arguing against her claim, a look of mischief in his dark eyes as he watched her.
“Would you like to place a bet on the matter?” Lyanna asked innocently, brow raised.
Another short laugh came from him as he shook his head, “no lass, I’ll not make bets with you.”
---
The loud call from the crow’s nest calling out the sight of land had the three heads bent over a map in the captain’s quarters shift up. The light had faded into a deep gold that preempted the switch to night, and a few candles had been lit and sat at each corner of the map spread out on the large wooden desk situated in the center of the room. It was a large map, neatly drawn with an elegance that suggested an immense attention to detail that would seem impossible to spot without soaring over the land itself. The corners of it were growing well-worn in its age, as it had been one of the first maps Lyanna had drawn upon leaving Thule, back when she had thought her journey would take her no further than this hemisphere.
“It will be a long journey once we leave Augur, we should take the time to properly supply, and attempt to recruit some crew,” Wyatt, the quartermaster, said with a heaved sigh. “Some time in port might do morale well before we set sail once more.”
Avery nodded, “Aye, do what you must to see everything is fit for when we set sail, take Gates with you should you need any help securing supplies. Lyanna, you’ll be staying with me while we’re in port.”
“Pardon?” The single word settled the cabin in a tense silence. With a sigh, Avery gestured from Wyatt to the door and the man ducked out only too happily, shutting the door behind him as he left.
“I’ve heard rumor about Thule, they don’t take kindly to odd people. As much as I trust my crew, drink and women have a tendency of loosening a man’s lips.” Avery had set to neatly rolling the map up once more.
“Odd?” She quoted with a raised brow, not commenting on his concerns. To be sure she had encountered those who were not so tolerant to the ‘abnormal’ as she had been referred to as. But there were just as many entirely accepting, and even more that could care less and others that seemed more concerned with her gender than anything else. Most often it was the company of pirates she kept that got her in trouble. But this was her home, Thule had never been a place of such discrimination.
“Aye lass, odd, I don’t ask questions-” Lyanna scoffed but he continued. “I leave you be and listen to what you say, but I know there’s something more than what you’re letting on.” I know you’re not a normal human. He need not say it out loud for Lyanna to know what he meant. There was a beat of silence as she had no intention on confirming or denying his assumption. She had gradually stopped making an effort to be overtly secretive decades ago, but she had not gone so far as openly discussing her abilities with anyone. When it was apparent she had nothing to add he continued with a sigh. “I’ll not have my navigator disappear while in port.”
“I’ve done well on my own for some time Captain,” Lyanna began, not unkindly, “I’d imagine it would serve you better to be with Wyatt as he recruits new crew members – else we might be stuck with a piss poor cook for a few months again.”
Avery hummed a thoughtful agreement. “We’ll be here a few days, do your best to keep out of trouble.”
Lyanna seemed to find the comment amusing as a boisterous shout come from out on deck as the men struck up a tune about drinking and the love of a women. She tipped her head towards the door. “I believe you should be having that conversation with your men before they descend upon the brothels in port.”
“Men will be men, you’re a-”
“Woman,” Lyanna finished dryly, although she continued with a grin, “I’m flattered you noticed Captain.” Avery only rolled his eyes, clearly expecting that to be the end of it, and so when she did not leave, he eyed her curiously. The amusement had bled from her expression, leaving something more serious in its wake. A flicker of uncertainty crossed her features as she considered what to say next. “I might suggest you inquire about a navigator while you’re in town.”
Avery sighed, clearly not pleased but neither was he surprised. She always had a tendency of coming and going after all. “I thought Thule seemed a touch off course to resupply.” He looked up at her from across the room. “You’re certain? I can’t imagine why of all places…” He trailed off, knowing she would not divulge her reasons.
“I’m not entirely certain, but I won’t insist you stay waiting for me.”
“Well, we have a few days in port before leaving. If it is time to part ways once more, I assume you’ll find me out of the blue once I’ve come upon some other mystery to search for.”
Lyanna grinned. “’Till next time Captain.”
---
They made port quickly and with a practiced ease despite the growing darkness. Lyanna stood at the helm with Wyatt as they watched the heaving lines get tied to the hawsers, thick ropes meant to draw them in and secure to the docks, but entirely too heavy for the men to toss to the dock workers. So, they were attached to thinner ropes that were bundled to be tossed once they drew closer. The last of the sails still loose – the topsails – were furled without the need for a command as they neared the dock, bringing them closer under the remaining momentum.
The heaving lines were tossed over the side, the hawsers trailing over the side as well as they were brought in and secured to the dock. “They seem eager to get into port,”Lyanna noted, leaning against the wooden railing in front of the helm and looking out over the deck.
“Do ye truly wonder why?” Wyatt ventured, laughter clear in his voice.
“You men are an awfully simple lot, a woman and some gold and you’re happy as can be.” She straightened, hearing a familiar sound of a bell tinkling overhead.
“And rum,” Wyatt added on with a mockingly serious expression. It was no challenge to see why Wyatt and Avery had been sailing together since they were two boys stowed away on a pirate’s ship. They both had the same sense of humor to be sure.
Lyanna chose not to answer as she turned toward the sound of the bell, looking up to see Atlas coming in from the stern of the ship. His wings spread out to slow his arrival, and Lyanna lifted her arm just as he came in for his landing. The razor-sharp talons would have easily drawn blood if not for the thick, neatly tooled, leather bracer she wore along her left arm, reaching up to her knuckles and looped around her thumb to keep it in place. It was laced over the sleeve of her white linen shirt and reached up to her elbow. “Well hello there.” Lyanna smiled, stroking a finger down his chest and then reaching into the small pouch looped around her black leather belt and retrieving a piece of dried meat. Atlas shifted, rustling his feathers as he eyed the treat. “Eager, aren’t we?” Atlas quickly ate the treat and Lyanna provided him with another as she prompted him off her arm and onto the railing.
Wyatt reached out to stroke the falcon and quickly pulled his hand back as Atlas nipped at it, “still haven’t warmed up to me have ye bird?” Wyatt grumbled, fixing his hat instead as the gangplank was slid out to the dock and secured.
Lyanna shrugged into the coat she had left over the railing. It was just another aspect of her fitted and clean appearance that set her apart from the typical pirate – not that she particularly considered herself one – but also did little to keep her from sticking out in a crowd. It was a finely made thing, a deep, royal blue velvet decorated with gold details and lined with wool on the inside. It swept down to just behind her calves, which were covered up to her knees in a set of black leather boots – fitted with laces up the back of the boot. Despite signs of wear it was clear they were well taken care of. As she situated the strap of the leather case she kept the tools of her trade in over her shoulder, Atlas promptly situated himself on her arm once more, nibbling at the ends of her hair almost impatiently.
Wyatt went down first to handle the fees that came with docking in port. It seemed the dockmaster was in no mood for haggling and Wyatt conceded the fee grudgingly then gestured up towards the crew. Lyanna was allowed down first, Atlas still clinging to her arm as his head swiveled curiously. It was always an odd sensation to set foot on solid ground after so long at sea, a slight sway to the land as if her body was already missing the ocean.
“Damn man, highest charges I’ve ever heard of,” Wyatt grumbled as he fell into pace beside her. "Finally settled him short three gold pieces and said he'd best take what I gave him."
Lyanna thought it tended to only bring more trouble when they refused to pay the proper fee, the dock master always reported to someone and often times that person was far less obliging to Wyatt's forceful version of 'haggling'. Still, she kept her reservations to herself. “Or perhaps your haggling is not what it used to be,” Lyanna ventured, earning herself a withering glare from the Quartermaster as the dock gave way to cobbled street beneath their boots and it was clear some sort of celebration was afoot. Feeling more out of place than usual as people were clearly dressed for the event, they made their way into the center of town. “Or it simply has something to do with whatever this is.” People were milling about, their appearances varying levels of commitment to the seemingly dark theme of this event. The excitement was thick in the air and Lyanna had no need to use her abilities to peek at what it might be as they caught sight of a large bonfire being built at the center of the town square.
A drunken man who's powdered wig was precariously atop his head ran into Wyatt where they had paused. The man's singing ceased as his wig toppled. He caught it at the last moment and pressed it back to his head, effectively crushing most of the curls and giving Wyatt a firm pat on his back before stumbling off with a boisterous laugh, continuing his song. Wyatt stared after him with a frown. “Aye, hopefully this madness hasn’t consumed the shopkeepers as well, else I’ll be needin’ more coin to get supplies.” Wyatt tipped his hat to her then, promptly heading off with Gates – the young cabin boy – trailing obediently behind him.
Hidden from view beneath her coat, Lyanna toyed with the golden astrolabe usually tucked into a leather pouch on her belt. It had grown warm since this morning as they drew closer to the island, which only made her more curious. While the town square was familiar from her childhood, the décor made it seem a far more unsettling sight than comforting. However, the gnawing sensation of unease was not simply from this. Just as she could sense the impending storm but not quite understand the ominous feeling it brought, Lyanna could sense something was different here since the moment she had stepped foot on the docks. Something bad had happened on this island since last she had been here and a base instinct to leave coiled in the pit of her stomach.
Perhaps this time it would have been wise to listen to it.
Yet, after over a century of it she found herself returning to Thule for no other reason than a sudden poor dream and a gentle – almost unnoticeable – pull towards the island that had started months ago. A pull that was more pronounced every time she toyed with the golden astrolabe that had once belonged to her father. Something was pulling her back to Thule, calling towards the little golden tool rather than herself it seemed. A hunch was not normally what she might sail months to investigate, but there was something about it, something that felt far greater than it seemed. Lyanna had never been one to ignore a mystery, no matter how elusive.
It was a lively scene aboard The Adrenaline. Men were busy scrubbing at the deck, securing supplies, or scurrying up the masts to tend to any sails that needed adjusting with the shift in wind, the quartermaster bellowing orders as they all went. An air of excitement had settled over the crew. They would be making port tomorrow, reaching land after a few long months at sea. As much as any of them enjoyed the freedom of the open ocean, steady ground and a fresh meal was always a welcome respite even to the most devout sailor.
At the stern of the ship, Lyanna stood staring up into the sky, searching for something. In her hand was a small brass bell attached to a leather cord, worn to a gleaming shine in some places from how often she would worry at it while in thought. Its twin was somewhere in the sky, attached to the leather jesses around Atlas’ foot. While the sound of a tinkling bell had become useful in avoiding surprise landings by the falcon, they served a far more important purpose. As simply as she let out a slow breath, she was looking out over the ocean once more; however, this time it was different.
Rather than stretching out before her as she stood on the ship, it was below her, racing past so quickly it was all but a blur. Lyanna was peering into the present through her falcon’s eyes, seeing and hearing what he did. Still aware of the bell she rolled against her palm, the deck beneath her feet, and shouts of the crew as they adjusted the sails, she seemed at a glance to only be lost in thought. However, a closer look would reveal the slight haze that had swept over her eyes as they shifted, never truly looking at anything but entirely far off. Everything around her on the ship was muffled, dulled almost, in place of what she saw through Atlas’ eyes.
Then suddenly the ocean below ended and was replaced by a small port town. The corners of Lyanna’s lips lifted ever so slightly at the sight, how long had it been? The docks Atlas flew over were the same ones she had run to whenever her father had come into port, brimming with excitement over what new tales or treasures he might have. But there were sad memories upon those same docks to be sure, of each passing day her mother and father never returned. The smile upon her features dampened a shade and Lyanna pulled back to her own present with a gentle urging for Atlas to return. If they managed to find a favorable wind they might get to the island before nightfall tomorrow.
“Daydreamin’ again?” The low voice of the captain made her turn, blinking once as the haze cleared from her eyes and she saw him paused at the top of the steps that led up to the helm, watching her. Captain Charles Avery, a man far too curious for his own good Lyanna had thought upon meeting him years ago and was only more convinced of it as time passed. With her reputation, most Captains had seen little reason to question exactly how she knew what she did. However, Captain Avery was not so easily assuaged.
“I daydream often Captain, I find it a lovely reprieve from your dull company.”Despite herself a grin bled onto her expression as he barked a laugh. She had sailed with his crew a number of times now, not exactly a common practice for her, but Avery knew precisely the type of mystery to tempt her. This time it had been a journal that had belonged to an elf named Belvor Thedisius, talking riddles of a tiny spit of land hidden by an enchantment where pools of crystal glittered beneath the moonlight and the air was thick with magic. Most importantly to Avery and his crew was the rumored treasure stowed away at the bottom of one of the crystals pools at the center of this tiny island. Jewels of every color, some smooth and others rough and natural. It had been a rather exciting discovery.
He joined her at the stern of the ship. “Aye, dull indeed.” The sound of sails flapping loose had the pair looking up at them. “Seems we might be losing the wind.”
“Not for long.” Lyanna seemed entirely unconcerned as she looked up at the sails, repositioning them had done little and they rippled in the dying winds, “a storm is coming, fortunately we are no more than a day from Thule.” More than just recognizing the shift in winds, she could feel something coming – all morning it had lingered like a pit in her stomach – a foreboding sense that seemed to entail more than just poor weather.
“A storm? And might I ask how you know this lass?”
Her grin seemed to widen. “You certainly may.”
“Aye, but you’ll not answer,” he finished as if familiar with the coy answer.
Lyanna sighed, no less amused as she gestured towards the sails. “The wind, Captain, it has been shifting restlessly today, surely you recognize that.”
“The winds have been a restless sort today, and the day before, as well as the day before that.” It was true, they had been chasing a proper route for the last week so as not to get stuck out to sea with nothing to fill their sails. “Too far off to say if it’s just a poor wind or a storm brewing.” From his tone he was more curious than arguing against her claim, a look of mischief in his dark eyes as he watched her.
“Would you like to place a bet on the matter?” Lyanna asked innocently, brow raised.
Another short laugh came from him as he shook his head, “no lass, I’ll not make bets with you.”
---
The loud call from the crow’s nest calling out the sight of land had the three heads bent over a map in the captain’s quarters shift up. The light had faded into a deep gold that preempted the switch to night, and a few candles had been lit and sat at each corner of the map spread out on the large wooden desk situated in the center of the room. It was a large map, neatly drawn with an elegance that suggested an immense attention to detail that would seem impossible to spot without soaring over the land itself. The corners of it were growing well-worn in its age, as it had been one of the first maps Lyanna had drawn upon leaving Thule, back when she had thought her journey would take her no further than this hemisphere.
“It will be a long journey once we leave Augur, we should take the time to properly supply, and attempt to recruit some crew,” Wyatt, the quartermaster, said with a heaved sigh. “Some time in port might do morale well before we set sail once more.”
Avery nodded, “Aye, do what you must to see everything is fit for when we set sail, take Gates with you should you need any help securing supplies. Lyanna, you’ll be staying with me while we’re in port.”
“Pardon?” The single word settled the cabin in a tense silence. With a sigh, Avery gestured from Wyatt to the door and the man ducked out only too happily, shutting the door behind him as he left.
“I’ve heard rumor about Thule, they don’t take kindly to odd people. As much as I trust my crew, drink and women have a tendency of loosening a man’s lips.” Avery had set to neatly rolling the map up once more.
“Odd?” She quoted with a raised brow, not commenting on his concerns. To be sure she had encountered those who were not so tolerant to the ‘abnormal’ as she had been referred to as. But there were just as many entirely accepting, and even more that could care less and others that seemed more concerned with her gender than anything else. Most often it was the company of pirates she kept that got her in trouble. But this was her home, Thule had never been a place of such discrimination.
“Aye lass, odd, I don’t ask questions-” Lyanna scoffed but he continued. “I leave you be and listen to what you say, but I know there’s something more than what you’re letting on.” I know you’re not a normal human. He need not say it out loud for Lyanna to know what he meant. There was a beat of silence as she had no intention on confirming or denying his assumption. She had gradually stopped making an effort to be overtly secretive decades ago, but she had not gone so far as openly discussing her abilities with anyone. When it was apparent she had nothing to add he continued with a sigh. “I’ll not have my navigator disappear while in port.”
“I’ve done well on my own for some time Captain,” Lyanna began, not unkindly, “I’d imagine it would serve you better to be with Wyatt as he recruits new crew members – else we might be stuck with a piss poor cook for a few months again.”
Avery hummed a thoughtful agreement. “We’ll be here a few days, do your best to keep out of trouble.”
Lyanna seemed to find the comment amusing as a boisterous shout come from out on deck as the men struck up a tune about drinking and the love of a women. She tipped her head towards the door. “I believe you should be having that conversation with your men before they descend upon the brothels in port.”
“Men will be men, you’re a-”
“Woman,” Lyanna finished dryly, although she continued with a grin, “I’m flattered you noticed Captain.” Avery only rolled his eyes, clearly expecting that to be the end of it, and so when she did not leave, he eyed her curiously. The amusement had bled from her expression, leaving something more serious in its wake. A flicker of uncertainty crossed her features as she considered what to say next. “I might suggest you inquire about a navigator while you’re in town.”
Avery sighed, clearly not pleased but neither was he surprised. She always had a tendency of coming and going after all. “I thought Thule seemed a touch off course to resupply.” He looked up at her from across the room. “You’re certain? I can’t imagine why of all places…” He trailed off, knowing she would not divulge her reasons.
“I’m not entirely certain, but I won’t insist you stay waiting for me.”
“Well, we have a few days in port before leaving. If it is time to part ways once more, I assume you’ll find me out of the blue once I’ve come upon some other mystery to search for.”
Lyanna grinned. “’Till next time Captain.”
---
They made port quickly and with a practiced ease despite the growing darkness. Lyanna stood at the helm with Wyatt as they watched the heaving lines get tied to the hawsers, thick ropes meant to draw them in and secure to the docks, but entirely too heavy for the men to toss to the dock workers. So, they were attached to thinner ropes that were bundled to be tossed once they drew closer. The last of the sails still loose – the topsails – were furled without the need for a command as they neared the dock, bringing them closer under the remaining momentum.
The heaving lines were tossed over the side, the hawsers trailing over the side as well as they were brought in and secured to the dock. “They seem eager to get into port,”Lyanna noted, leaning against the wooden railing in front of the helm and looking out over the deck.
“Do ye truly wonder why?” Wyatt ventured, laughter clear in his voice.
“You men are an awfully simple lot, a woman and some gold and you’re happy as can be.” She straightened, hearing a familiar sound of a bell tinkling overhead.
“And rum,” Wyatt added on with a mockingly serious expression. It was no challenge to see why Wyatt and Avery had been sailing together since they were two boys stowed away on a pirate’s ship. They both had the same sense of humor to be sure.
Lyanna chose not to answer as she turned toward the sound of the bell, looking up to see Atlas coming in from the stern of the ship. His wings spread out to slow his arrival, and Lyanna lifted her arm just as he came in for his landing. The razor-sharp talons would have easily drawn blood if not for the thick, neatly tooled, leather bracer she wore along her left arm, reaching up to her knuckles and looped around her thumb to keep it in place. It was laced over the sleeve of her white linen shirt and reached up to her elbow. “Well hello there.” Lyanna smiled, stroking a finger down his chest and then reaching into the small pouch looped around her black leather belt and retrieving a piece of dried meat. Atlas shifted, rustling his feathers as he eyed the treat. “Eager, aren’t we?” Atlas quickly ate the treat and Lyanna provided him with another as she prompted him off her arm and onto the railing.
Wyatt reached out to stroke the falcon and quickly pulled his hand back as Atlas nipped at it, “still haven’t warmed up to me have ye bird?” Wyatt grumbled, fixing his hat instead as the gangplank was slid out to the dock and secured.
Lyanna shrugged into the coat she had left over the railing. It was just another aspect of her fitted and clean appearance that set her apart from the typical pirate – not that she particularly considered herself one – but also did little to keep her from sticking out in a crowd. It was a finely made thing, a deep, royal blue velvet decorated with gold details and lined with wool on the inside. It swept down to just behind her calves, which were covered up to her knees in a set of black leather boots – fitted with laces up the back of the boot. Despite signs of wear it was clear they were well taken care of. As she situated the strap of the leather case she kept the tools of her trade in over her shoulder, Atlas promptly situated himself on her arm once more, nibbling at the ends of her hair almost impatiently.
Wyatt went down first to handle the fees that came with docking in port. It seemed the dockmaster was in no mood for haggling and Wyatt conceded the fee grudgingly then gestured up towards the crew. Lyanna was allowed down first, Atlas still clinging to her arm as his head swiveled curiously. It was always an odd sensation to set foot on solid ground after so long at sea, a slight sway to the land as if her body was already missing the ocean.
“Damn man, highest charges I’ve ever heard of,” Wyatt grumbled as he fell into pace beside her. "Finally settled him short three gold pieces and said he'd best take what I gave him."
Lyanna thought it tended to only bring more trouble when they refused to pay the proper fee, the dock master always reported to someone and often times that person was far less obliging to Wyatt's forceful version of 'haggling'. Still, she kept her reservations to herself. “Or perhaps your haggling is not what it used to be,” Lyanna ventured, earning herself a withering glare from the Quartermaster as the dock gave way to cobbled street beneath their boots and it was clear some sort of celebration was afoot. Feeling more out of place than usual as people were clearly dressed for the event, they made their way into the center of town. “Or it simply has something to do with whatever this is.” People were milling about, their appearances varying levels of commitment to the seemingly dark theme of this event. The excitement was thick in the air and Lyanna had no need to use her abilities to peek at what it might be as they caught sight of a large bonfire being built at the center of the town square.
A drunken man who's powdered wig was precariously atop his head ran into Wyatt where they had paused. The man's singing ceased as his wig toppled. He caught it at the last moment and pressed it back to his head, effectively crushing most of the curls and giving Wyatt a firm pat on his back before stumbling off with a boisterous laugh, continuing his song. Wyatt stared after him with a frown. “Aye, hopefully this madness hasn’t consumed the shopkeepers as well, else I’ll be needin’ more coin to get supplies.” Wyatt tipped his hat to her then, promptly heading off with Gates – the young cabin boy – trailing obediently behind him.
Hidden from view beneath her coat, Lyanna toyed with the golden astrolabe usually tucked into a leather pouch on her belt. It had grown warm since this morning as they drew closer to the island, which only made her more curious. While the town square was familiar from her childhood, the décor made it seem a far more unsettling sight than comforting. However, the gnawing sensation of unease was not simply from this. Just as she could sense the impending storm but not quite understand the ominous feeling it brought, Lyanna could sense something was different here since the moment she had stepped foot on the docks. Something bad had happened on this island since last she had been here and a base instinct to leave coiled in the pit of her stomach.
Perhaps this time it would have been wise to listen to it.
Sample #2 (romance smutty)
Clara's eyes shot open once more as probing fingers traced down from her throat, over collar bone, and rested on her breast. The thin silk did little to hide the feeling of the brush of skin, the slow pattern almost maddening as every bit of squirming she did underneath him only amplified the friction of his palm against the ungodly sensitivity of the peak of each breast. Without the restriction of a corset he could easily take that sensitive tip and pinch it, triggering a sudden surge of heat that seemed directly connected to that most private place between her thighs. The feeling made her gasp. She tried to shift away as his lips pressed to her cheek, warm and soft and the voice that left them almost as dizzying as his touch. But then his fingers pinched again at the already oversensitive flesh and she strained at the ribbon binding her wrists, lips parting in a breathless sound, muscles tightening as he repeated the actions on her other breast. That invisible thread connecting the sensation to her womanhood making her squirm beneath him, biting her lip against the soft sounds that threatened to leave her lips of their own accord.
"I'm not…I didn't…mmh" Clara struggled to find a way to deny his words, realizing the audacity of attempting to argue in her own dream, her protests ending in a low noise in the back of her throat as his tongue pressed against her skin. It distracted her a moment and she did not realize his hand had traveled further downwards. But as it reached its goal, her most private area – one her mother had stressed to never allow a man near until they had been wed and even then, only to have children – and his fingers cupped the heated core. Her reaction was immediate. A host of emotions flickered through her eyes, flashing one after the other, embarrassment – at what he was doing or the fact that it was her own imagination that had thought it up – followed by fear at where this was progressing, but within those green eyes a heated look simmered, a human reaction to the feelings coursing through her. A desperate sound, desperate for more or for it to end, left her lips.
But it only became significantly worse as those invasive fingers moved against her. The pressure simmering there, coiling between her thighs, settling like a heavy warmth in her belly, began to build even faster. She pulled against her silk bindings, feeling them press tightly into her wrists and ignoring it. A moan caught between a gasp and a whimper broke past her lips. "I don't," she insisted breathlessly as his hand left her, her shoulders and arms sagged as that maddening pressure ebbed slightly, a small reprieve that allowed her to take deep breaths that had her chest rising and falling heavily. The moment of relief was broken as she felt his fingers trailing up the bare skin of her thigh. "Wait," she groaned, every ounce of wit and control lost to her as she struggled to form a coherent sentence. His slow and steady movements, the soft press of lips to her temple, his scent and touch enveloping her, overwhelming her with the heat of his touch and the sensual nature of the control he seemed so capable at wielding over her.
The combination of his touch and that velvety voice uttering such sinful things in her ear was inescapable. Even when she closed her eyes and willed herself to wake up, her body arguing against the idea as her skin felt alive with the heat of his touch. And you want it, the freedom that comes from submitting to someone who deserves your loyalty. She parted her lips to deny it, the word forming on her lips, just starting to works its way off the tip of her tongue when it was ripped away in a gasped moan when his fingers pressed against her most private area with not even the thin slip of silk guarding her purity. She writhed with renewed effort, pulling at her bound wrists, digging her heels into the bed to try and shift away from him out of fear. Fear of where this was leading, what images this would leave vivid in her memories, unable to forget. A temptation she had no business hosting. All the more frightening because even as she immediately had tried to deny wanting to submit to anyone, a tiny voice at the back of her mind wondered what it might be like to indulge in this fantasy.
Then those prodding fingers dipped into her and she was robbed of any sense of thought and was left with nothing but the sensations overwhelming her. Her back arched sharply, a cry leaving her lips at the sudden feeling. It was too much, a flicker of discomfort making her eyebrows pinch together. But then the unfamiliar sensation shifted into something different, something that began to slowly build that pressure again, coiling it tighter and tighter within her. His voice sent a shiver down her spine as he continued to twist her thoughts to his suggestion, ideas overcoming her imagination unbidden. But just as she had grasped at some form of coherent thought his thumb pressed against a spot that had her throwing her head back into her pillows, eyes wide and unseeing as her vision was momentarily overcome and fuzzy.
"Oh God," she breathed as she was offered no relief from the intense feeling and he instead moved his thumb firmly over that little spot over and over, winding her so tightly she could scarcely draw breath, her lithe form pulled taut. She felt entirely powerless in her own dream, and a dangerous thought occurred to her, a part of her wanted this. Just a dream, she reminded herself, whimpering softly when he withdrew his fingers and a throbbing sense of raw need was left at her core. Unfamiliar and overwhelming as she shifted her hips to alleviate it. Drawn to his gaze like a moth to flame, she looked up at him as he brought his fingers to his lips, glistening wickedly and her cheeks burned at the realization that it was her own arousal on his fingers. That she was growing aroused by this man, her mind exploiting the flicker of interest coaxed to life at the party and forming this inescapable dream.
She shook her head meekly as he insisted she wanted to follow his lead, that being bound to him would prove any different than any other man. Yet she had never had thoughts like this about another man, dreams stirred to life by a man, granted, he had been the first to kiss her. A kiss that had clearly ignited ill repressed urges. Urges she should be shocked with herself to not only have dreamt of, but to have allowed the dream to carry on. But then his fingers touched her lips, parted as she struggled to catch her breath, and slipped past them to brush against her tongue. She froze, completely shocked at her own imagination, how her mind could conjure up such a wicked act, so subtle and yet so powerful as she was helpless against it, helpless to taste her own arousal upon his fingers and the familiar taste that was purely him. She shuddered, closing her eyes as her tongue pressed against his fingers and then they were gone.
Her mind seemed to be floating somewhere far away until she realized he was shifting down the bed. For a moment she was seized with panic, her heart racing as she thought he might stop, might leave her like this in her own dream. His hands sliding along her sides, and then his lips kissing a trail provided a sense of relief that caught her off guard. No, she thought firmly, I should want him to stop, want him to leave and never look at me again. But her thoughts and body seemed to disagree as she hardly resisted him when he pressed her thighs apart. Her muscles tensed as she felt his warm breath tickle against the soft skin of her inner thigh, a sigh shuddering past her lips. What was the harm in indulging in a dream? Pretend this was not the handsome and mysterious man who had stolen a kiss from her, a man she might very well see again and be forced to ignore the memory of this dream.
Every little bite had her muscles jerk, her breathing catching in her throat only to exhale in a sigh as his lips and tongue took their turn. But the moment of calm was interrupted as his breath washed against her at the apex of her thighs. Her center throbbed at the small form of attention, and then she was once more arching against the bed as his tongue pressed against her there. Shocked green eyes shifted to look down her body to meet the pair settled between her legs and she wanted to look away in embarrassment but his gaze trapped her, making her still for a moment as she felt that unsettling sense of calm wash over her, her mind focusing only on his gaze, glowing just as she had thought it had in the garden. Her imagination was perceptive and quite imaginative in conjuring this dream.
Then his tongue delved deeper and the moment was shattered into a desperate cry, the sound seamlessly melding into a low moan as he persisted further. Clara could hardly stay still as he kept going, his tongue warm and wet in a way entirely unlike the firm and unforgiving nature of his fingers. It brushed against sensitive areas that pulled moans and gasps from her lips like some lewd song. That unfamiliar sensation continued to build, further than it had before until her stomach was rippling every time her muscles tightened, her toes curling against the bed. It coiled tighter and tighter until she thought she could no longer take it, and then just as she thought she might burst from the intense feeling he stopped. She writhed against the bed as her body sang with the sensation, demanding some sort of reprieve from it. Then just as it started to dim, he pressed his tongue to her once more and it flared to life even faster than before, demanding and hot. Only to be left shaking with desire as he pulled away again. A whimper left her lips, her body singing with the need for more, even if more felt like it might be the death of her.
He continued this pattern for what felt like hours, controlling her body as if he were a mater violinist and she his instrument. Playing her as if he were tuning the strings, and she wondered if he intended to drive her mad. He wielded that control over her in such an intoxicating way, one that left her torn on whether she wanted more or wanted to beg him to stop. But it was just a dream she had to remind herself. A thin layer of perspiration clung to her skin as he drove her to that point once more, a point where she was not entirely certain what awaited her, only that she needed it desperately. The feeling built rapidly after so many denials, stronger than ever as it overcame every part of her until her skin tingled with it, the coil within her so tight she could barely breath past it. It built, further and further, her moans increasing in pitch, leaving her lips almost as one drawn out noise. "Magnus."
And then he stopped.
"No!" She cried out, feeling powerless, a confusing mix of emotions leaving her more uncertain than ever. Moisture pricked the corners of her eyes. Frustration and a desperate need forcing a small tear to escape her pale green eyes glistening in the soft glow of the fire. "Please…" She breathed, voice almost broken as she sagged against the bed, shifting restlessly to try and ease the throbbing between her legs. She tried to press her thighs together but found it impossible as he shifted up over her between them. Was he going to take her there? The thought – even if this was a dream – had her struggling beneath him, his mouth on her breast jumbling her thoughts once more and she struggled to focus.
"Wake up, wake up," she urged herself as she felt quite keenly his own arousal pressed against her thigh, the heat of it, so close to stealing her purity that she ceased struggling and was suddenly frozen beneath him. "Please don't," she breathed, once more begging in her own dream. Why did it seem nothing about this dream was under her control? But instead of taking her, she felt his fingers at the silk binding her wrists and her heart fluttered.
It dropped over her eyes as her arms were suddenly free. Without a thought or even a moment sparred to regain her senses, Clara scurried off the bed, her legs a tangle of silk and utterly unsteady after his torture. She stumbled to her door, reached out for the door handle, but instead her fingers brushed against something just as firm yet much warmer. Wide green eyes shot up to meet a hauntingly tempting pair for just the briefest of moments before she was back across the room, bent over his knee and feeling unbearably exposed in such a vulnerable position. Especially with the prominent feeling of his arousal pressing into her belly, vivid and so unbelievably real she almost forgot this was a dream.
"How dare you," she hissed, her bravado marred by the breathlessness of her voice and the sliver of fear making her pitch just a little higher than normal. Her bare toes brushed the smooth wood floors, unable to gain any purchase from her position. Her chest hung just over the edge of his thigh; her hands pressed into the bed at either side of her head as she tried to push herself up. The attempt was cut short as he took a firm grip on her hair, pinning her in place with her thick golden waves and drawing a surprised cry from her lips as her scalp smarted from the pain.
The realization of what he intended to do struck her a moment before his palm did. The cry that broke past her lips was the sharpest yet, her whole body jerked with the blow, keenly aware of the pressure prodding at her belly with every movement. "Bastard," Clara hissed, nails digging into the sheets even as her struggles made the pain at her scalp shoot down her spine. He struck her again, the silk nightgown hardly providing any protection and the sound of flesh on flesh echoed through the room as he delivered another blow to the other cheek. "Please stop!" She begged, her demanding tone changing as he struck her, crying out again, yet he continued without a pause.
Every blow carried with it the sharp sting of pain, but then in the moments between blows she felt a confusing mingling of sensations. The throbbing he had built her into such a frenzy with came back with a vengeance, making her press her thighs together firmly. The pain spiked through her only to build at that unfamiliar sensation, mingling into pleasure almost as quickly as it came. It only grew harder and harder to contain as his palm turned pale flesh a tender pink, striking again over the same spots. "Please," she cried, breathing ragged, pride raging at her for begging. Tears lingered trapped in her eyes as she squeezed them shut against the sting. Clara was panting with a desperate and confusing need as she writhed over his lap, until one final blow nearly sent her over the edge, muscles tensing as she cried out this time a mixture of pain and pleasure. He struck her just where the curve of her bottom met her thighs, so close to her womanhood in this position, harder and sharper than any of the others and she jerked forward from it, the edge of her vision turning a fuzzy white. She was so close to bursting she thought she might faint.
Then he released his grip from her hair, and she was able to push herself off his lap. Clumsily, she landed on the floor, gasping at the pain that radiating from her abused bottom as she tried to scoot back away from him as gingerly as she could. "That hurt," she snapped, feeling pitiful for saying it as her eyes glistened and moisture prickled at the corners of her eyes. But, as if to contradict her words, her skin flushed with arousal and she fought to maintain her gaze on the more appropriate areas of Magnus. Her body sang with need, a dewy sheen to her skin as the pulsing heat at her core seemed to fill her entire body, her thighs still shaking as she stopped on her knees, silk pooling around her. There was a dark wonder to her gaze as she watched him like a rabbit might watch a wolf. Still and frozen, waiting for the first sign of attack.
"I'm not…I didn't…mmh" Clara struggled to find a way to deny his words, realizing the audacity of attempting to argue in her own dream, her protests ending in a low noise in the back of her throat as his tongue pressed against her skin. It distracted her a moment and she did not realize his hand had traveled further downwards. But as it reached its goal, her most private area – one her mother had stressed to never allow a man near until they had been wed and even then, only to have children – and his fingers cupped the heated core. Her reaction was immediate. A host of emotions flickered through her eyes, flashing one after the other, embarrassment – at what he was doing or the fact that it was her own imagination that had thought it up – followed by fear at where this was progressing, but within those green eyes a heated look simmered, a human reaction to the feelings coursing through her. A desperate sound, desperate for more or for it to end, left her lips.
But it only became significantly worse as those invasive fingers moved against her. The pressure simmering there, coiling between her thighs, settling like a heavy warmth in her belly, began to build even faster. She pulled against her silk bindings, feeling them press tightly into her wrists and ignoring it. A moan caught between a gasp and a whimper broke past her lips. "I don't," she insisted breathlessly as his hand left her, her shoulders and arms sagged as that maddening pressure ebbed slightly, a small reprieve that allowed her to take deep breaths that had her chest rising and falling heavily. The moment of relief was broken as she felt his fingers trailing up the bare skin of her thigh. "Wait," she groaned, every ounce of wit and control lost to her as she struggled to form a coherent sentence. His slow and steady movements, the soft press of lips to her temple, his scent and touch enveloping her, overwhelming her with the heat of his touch and the sensual nature of the control he seemed so capable at wielding over her.
The combination of his touch and that velvety voice uttering such sinful things in her ear was inescapable. Even when she closed her eyes and willed herself to wake up, her body arguing against the idea as her skin felt alive with the heat of his touch. And you want it, the freedom that comes from submitting to someone who deserves your loyalty. She parted her lips to deny it, the word forming on her lips, just starting to works its way off the tip of her tongue when it was ripped away in a gasped moan when his fingers pressed against her most private area with not even the thin slip of silk guarding her purity. She writhed with renewed effort, pulling at her bound wrists, digging her heels into the bed to try and shift away from him out of fear. Fear of where this was leading, what images this would leave vivid in her memories, unable to forget. A temptation she had no business hosting. All the more frightening because even as she immediately had tried to deny wanting to submit to anyone, a tiny voice at the back of her mind wondered what it might be like to indulge in this fantasy.
Then those prodding fingers dipped into her and she was robbed of any sense of thought and was left with nothing but the sensations overwhelming her. Her back arched sharply, a cry leaving her lips at the sudden feeling. It was too much, a flicker of discomfort making her eyebrows pinch together. But then the unfamiliar sensation shifted into something different, something that began to slowly build that pressure again, coiling it tighter and tighter within her. His voice sent a shiver down her spine as he continued to twist her thoughts to his suggestion, ideas overcoming her imagination unbidden. But just as she had grasped at some form of coherent thought his thumb pressed against a spot that had her throwing her head back into her pillows, eyes wide and unseeing as her vision was momentarily overcome and fuzzy.
"Oh God," she breathed as she was offered no relief from the intense feeling and he instead moved his thumb firmly over that little spot over and over, winding her so tightly she could scarcely draw breath, her lithe form pulled taut. She felt entirely powerless in her own dream, and a dangerous thought occurred to her, a part of her wanted this. Just a dream, she reminded herself, whimpering softly when he withdrew his fingers and a throbbing sense of raw need was left at her core. Unfamiliar and overwhelming as she shifted her hips to alleviate it. Drawn to his gaze like a moth to flame, she looked up at him as he brought his fingers to his lips, glistening wickedly and her cheeks burned at the realization that it was her own arousal on his fingers. That she was growing aroused by this man, her mind exploiting the flicker of interest coaxed to life at the party and forming this inescapable dream.
She shook her head meekly as he insisted she wanted to follow his lead, that being bound to him would prove any different than any other man. Yet she had never had thoughts like this about another man, dreams stirred to life by a man, granted, he had been the first to kiss her. A kiss that had clearly ignited ill repressed urges. Urges she should be shocked with herself to not only have dreamt of, but to have allowed the dream to carry on. But then his fingers touched her lips, parted as she struggled to catch her breath, and slipped past them to brush against her tongue. She froze, completely shocked at her own imagination, how her mind could conjure up such a wicked act, so subtle and yet so powerful as she was helpless against it, helpless to taste her own arousal upon his fingers and the familiar taste that was purely him. She shuddered, closing her eyes as her tongue pressed against his fingers and then they were gone.
Her mind seemed to be floating somewhere far away until she realized he was shifting down the bed. For a moment she was seized with panic, her heart racing as she thought he might stop, might leave her like this in her own dream. His hands sliding along her sides, and then his lips kissing a trail provided a sense of relief that caught her off guard. No, she thought firmly, I should want him to stop, want him to leave and never look at me again. But her thoughts and body seemed to disagree as she hardly resisted him when he pressed her thighs apart. Her muscles tensed as she felt his warm breath tickle against the soft skin of her inner thigh, a sigh shuddering past her lips. What was the harm in indulging in a dream? Pretend this was not the handsome and mysterious man who had stolen a kiss from her, a man she might very well see again and be forced to ignore the memory of this dream.
Every little bite had her muscles jerk, her breathing catching in her throat only to exhale in a sigh as his lips and tongue took their turn. But the moment of calm was interrupted as his breath washed against her at the apex of her thighs. Her center throbbed at the small form of attention, and then she was once more arching against the bed as his tongue pressed against her there. Shocked green eyes shifted to look down her body to meet the pair settled between her legs and she wanted to look away in embarrassment but his gaze trapped her, making her still for a moment as she felt that unsettling sense of calm wash over her, her mind focusing only on his gaze, glowing just as she had thought it had in the garden. Her imagination was perceptive and quite imaginative in conjuring this dream.
Then his tongue delved deeper and the moment was shattered into a desperate cry, the sound seamlessly melding into a low moan as he persisted further. Clara could hardly stay still as he kept going, his tongue warm and wet in a way entirely unlike the firm and unforgiving nature of his fingers. It brushed against sensitive areas that pulled moans and gasps from her lips like some lewd song. That unfamiliar sensation continued to build, further than it had before until her stomach was rippling every time her muscles tightened, her toes curling against the bed. It coiled tighter and tighter until she thought she could no longer take it, and then just as she thought she might burst from the intense feeling he stopped. She writhed against the bed as her body sang with the sensation, demanding some sort of reprieve from it. Then just as it started to dim, he pressed his tongue to her once more and it flared to life even faster than before, demanding and hot. Only to be left shaking with desire as he pulled away again. A whimper left her lips, her body singing with the need for more, even if more felt like it might be the death of her.
He continued this pattern for what felt like hours, controlling her body as if he were a mater violinist and she his instrument. Playing her as if he were tuning the strings, and she wondered if he intended to drive her mad. He wielded that control over her in such an intoxicating way, one that left her torn on whether she wanted more or wanted to beg him to stop. But it was just a dream she had to remind herself. A thin layer of perspiration clung to her skin as he drove her to that point once more, a point where she was not entirely certain what awaited her, only that she needed it desperately. The feeling built rapidly after so many denials, stronger than ever as it overcame every part of her until her skin tingled with it, the coil within her so tight she could barely breath past it. It built, further and further, her moans increasing in pitch, leaving her lips almost as one drawn out noise. "Magnus."
And then he stopped.
"No!" She cried out, feeling powerless, a confusing mix of emotions leaving her more uncertain than ever. Moisture pricked the corners of her eyes. Frustration and a desperate need forcing a small tear to escape her pale green eyes glistening in the soft glow of the fire. "Please…" She breathed, voice almost broken as she sagged against the bed, shifting restlessly to try and ease the throbbing between her legs. She tried to press her thighs together but found it impossible as he shifted up over her between them. Was he going to take her there? The thought – even if this was a dream – had her struggling beneath him, his mouth on her breast jumbling her thoughts once more and she struggled to focus.
"Wake up, wake up," she urged herself as she felt quite keenly his own arousal pressed against her thigh, the heat of it, so close to stealing her purity that she ceased struggling and was suddenly frozen beneath him. "Please don't," she breathed, once more begging in her own dream. Why did it seem nothing about this dream was under her control? But instead of taking her, she felt his fingers at the silk binding her wrists and her heart fluttered.
It dropped over her eyes as her arms were suddenly free. Without a thought or even a moment sparred to regain her senses, Clara scurried off the bed, her legs a tangle of silk and utterly unsteady after his torture. She stumbled to her door, reached out for the door handle, but instead her fingers brushed against something just as firm yet much warmer. Wide green eyes shot up to meet a hauntingly tempting pair for just the briefest of moments before she was back across the room, bent over his knee and feeling unbearably exposed in such a vulnerable position. Especially with the prominent feeling of his arousal pressing into her belly, vivid and so unbelievably real she almost forgot this was a dream.
"How dare you," she hissed, her bravado marred by the breathlessness of her voice and the sliver of fear making her pitch just a little higher than normal. Her bare toes brushed the smooth wood floors, unable to gain any purchase from her position. Her chest hung just over the edge of his thigh; her hands pressed into the bed at either side of her head as she tried to push herself up. The attempt was cut short as he took a firm grip on her hair, pinning her in place with her thick golden waves and drawing a surprised cry from her lips as her scalp smarted from the pain.
The realization of what he intended to do struck her a moment before his palm did. The cry that broke past her lips was the sharpest yet, her whole body jerked with the blow, keenly aware of the pressure prodding at her belly with every movement. "Bastard," Clara hissed, nails digging into the sheets even as her struggles made the pain at her scalp shoot down her spine. He struck her again, the silk nightgown hardly providing any protection and the sound of flesh on flesh echoed through the room as he delivered another blow to the other cheek. "Please stop!" She begged, her demanding tone changing as he struck her, crying out again, yet he continued without a pause.
Every blow carried with it the sharp sting of pain, but then in the moments between blows she felt a confusing mingling of sensations. The throbbing he had built her into such a frenzy with came back with a vengeance, making her press her thighs together firmly. The pain spiked through her only to build at that unfamiliar sensation, mingling into pleasure almost as quickly as it came. It only grew harder and harder to contain as his palm turned pale flesh a tender pink, striking again over the same spots. "Please," she cried, breathing ragged, pride raging at her for begging. Tears lingered trapped in her eyes as she squeezed them shut against the sting. Clara was panting with a desperate and confusing need as she writhed over his lap, until one final blow nearly sent her over the edge, muscles tensing as she cried out this time a mixture of pain and pleasure. He struck her just where the curve of her bottom met her thighs, so close to her womanhood in this position, harder and sharper than any of the others and she jerked forward from it, the edge of her vision turning a fuzzy white. She was so close to bursting she thought she might faint.
Then he released his grip from her hair, and she was able to push herself off his lap. Clumsily, she landed on the floor, gasping at the pain that radiating from her abused bottom as she tried to scoot back away from him as gingerly as she could. "That hurt," she snapped, feeling pitiful for saying it as her eyes glistened and moisture prickled at the corners of her eyes. But, as if to contradict her words, her skin flushed with arousal and she fought to maintain her gaze on the more appropriate areas of Magnus. Her body sang with need, a dewy sheen to her skin as the pulsing heat at her core seemed to fill her entire body, her thighs still shaking as she stopped on her knees, silk pooling around her. There was a dark wonder to her gaze as she watched him like a rabbit might watch a wolf. Still and frozen, waiting for the first sign of attack.
On to the nitty gritty... Plots!
Pirates/Blacksails inpired
I would love to do something in this setting but do not have anything specific in mind, so it would be great to brainstorm with someone. Maybe she's a stowaway on his ship, maybe she's kidnapped and held for ransom, maybe she's a skilled navigator and is captured from another ship for their own purposes, unbeknownst to them this navigator turns out to be a woman. I love the idea of involving the navigator bit because I really enjoy researching how it was done in those ages.
Pirates/fantasy
The year is 1673, Along the coast of the New World and the Bahamas, Pirates and other cutthroats sail the seas, hunted down by the Royal Navy.
One crew in particular have a very specific goal. They are looking for a mythical place only told in stories of long ago. A place rumored to hold eternal riches, once home to a magical people. Yet the most interesting part of this rumor is the waterfall deep within a cave, falling from a mysterious source into a bottomless pool whose water is said to cure any sickness. The lost city of Theron. To the captain of this crew, finding this waterfall is of the utmost importance, because of a curse their lives depend on it. But how do you find a magical lost city? With a witch who has a talent for finding that which is though to be lost.
Perhaps in this world mythical creatures are known and there has developed a great deal of prejudice, with most species and magical creatures considered lesser than others. We could start with a prison break as the witch has been imprisoned for using magic or the Navy is searching for this lost city as well and are attempting to force her cooperation.
I love the whole pirates theme because it has lots of potential for adventure. Crazy sea monsters, storms at sea, shenanigans at port. Two characters with opposing personalities forced to work together.
One crew in particular have a very specific goal. They are looking for a mythical place only told in stories of long ago. A place rumored to hold eternal riches, once home to a magical people. Yet the most interesting part of this rumor is the waterfall deep within a cave, falling from a mysterious source into a bottomless pool whose water is said to cure any sickness. The lost city of Theron. To the captain of this crew, finding this waterfall is of the utmost importance, because of a curse their lives depend on it. But how do you find a magical lost city? With a witch who has a talent for finding that which is though to be lost.
Perhaps in this world mythical creatures are known and there has developed a great deal of prejudice, with most species and magical creatures considered lesser than others. We could start with a prison break as the witch has been imprisoned for using magic or the Navy is searching for this lost city as well and are attempting to force her cooperation.
I love the whole pirates theme because it has lots of potential for adventure. Crazy sea monsters, storms at sea, shenanigans at port. Two characters with opposing personalities forced to work together.
Victorian Era
I think it would be fun to play around with the risk of scandal this era lends itself to. The strict social rules, the passion simmering just below the surface. I would love to play a quick-witted, intelligent young woman of title in this setting. I also think it could easily incorporate some fantasy aspects, specifically some darker ones.
Cue random rambling ideas:
An idea that came to mind was my character being the daughter of a Lord. Perhaps due to some scandal your character, a Duke, seeks revenge on her father due to a business deal or something. Deciding the reputation of his eldest daughter would suffice he seeks to ruin her. I think we could build a lot of tension with this one. Would love to plot out the details with someone.
Or perhaps the Duke has gained his standing through a few fortunate marriages, and after the death of his second wife he sets his sights on another, the daughter of a Lord who has found immense wealth in coal mining. However, there's one snag, she does not wish to marry. Once again, I would love to just play around in all the social rules of this era, the scandal he could stir up simply by asking for one too many dances at a ball, the impact of a simple touch or kiss. Eventually the Duke who only sought her fortune soon finds he is intrigued by the young Lady, and the young Lady finds she quite likes the challenge and danger he always brings.
Cue random rambling ideas:
An idea that came to mind was my character being the daughter of a Lord. Perhaps due to some scandal your character, a Duke, seeks revenge on her father due to a business deal or something. Deciding the reputation of his eldest daughter would suffice he seeks to ruin her. I think we could build a lot of tension with this one. Would love to plot out the details with someone.
Or perhaps the Duke has gained his standing through a few fortunate marriages, and after the death of his second wife he sets his sights on another, the daughter of a Lord who has found immense wealth in coal mining. However, there's one snag, she does not wish to marry. Once again, I would love to just play around in all the social rules of this era, the scandal he could stir up simply by asking for one too many dances at a ball, the impact of a simple touch or kiss. Eventually the Duke who only sought her fortune soon finds he is intrigued by the young Lady, and the young Lady finds she quite likes the challenge and danger he always brings.
Medieval
Perhaps we could do something like a runaway princess is trying to disguise herself as a boy among a band of thieves/warriors/etc. and we could play out how she is eventually discovered, guards sent to find her, rewards being offered and making travel dangerous.
Honestly I just love the time period and it would be lots of fun to toss around an idea with someone and come up with something interesting.
Honestly I just love the time period and it would be lots of fun to toss around an idea with someone and come up with something interesting.
Things I am a fan of...
I would be thrilled to work up something with any of these aspects below
Settings:
Historical • 1800s • Medieval • Western • Post-apocalypse
Themes:
Violence • Survival • Drama • Enemies forced to work together • Manipulation • Corruption • Betrayal • Dishonesty • Rivalry • Moral struggles • Pirates
Style:
Detailed writing • Communicative partners • Long term partnerships • Plot driven • Character driven • Character development
Characters:
Complex characters • Mature • Opposite morals/personalities • Butting heads • Development • Forced to work together • D/s
Send a message if you are interested! Would love to discuss other ideas as well!
Last edited: